Worst Nightmare
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: Characters from Harry Potter realize that their worst nightmares may just come true...
1. Chapter 1: Uncle Vernon

**(A/N: Hello, everyone. While this is not Master Plans and Double shooters—Yet. We're still under research and development.—this is a random story that we just this morning decided to write. Yippee-doo. **

**This is a challenge that we challenged ourselves with. We are going to write a one-shot for every single character on the scroll down list. Wish us luck! And remember to review, because we LURVE reviews and it makes us feel good. Plus, we don't know if you like it if you don't tell us.)**

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**Chapter One:**

**Uncle Vernon's Worst Nightmare**

It was all over. The whole magic battle was over and done with, and Uncle Vernon was happy to be returning to Privet Drive at last. He would _never_ see one of those incompetent magicians again. Plus, he would never have to lay eyes on Harry again. That was a huge relief. Maybe he finally sell some of his drills in peace. As they pulled into the driveway, Uncle Vernon looked up at his completely normal and perfect house. His mouth dropped open.

Surrounding the house were neon lights and strands of blinking ones, too. A huge neon sign on the roof said: Harry Potter's Casino Galore. There were people swarming through the door, holding tufts of money in their hands, all chatting excitedly. Some of them, Uncle Vernon shivered, were wearing long, sweeping wizarding robes. 'I'm going to kill that boy…' Uncle Vernon thought bitterly. Getting out of the car, slamming the door, and pushing through the incredibly thick crowd, he searched frantically for Harry. He saw those two, stupid red-head boys sitting on _his_ coffee table, telling jokes to everyone and his house was filled with games upon games upon games!! Finally, he found _him_. It was rather hard to walk over there, seeing as the strobe light was making him dizzy. He tripped over a very old wizard, who couldn't have been more than three feet high. The wizard squealed and toppled over, shouting in a squeaky voice: "Not again!!"

Harry looked up. "Oh, hey, Uncle Vernon! What're you doing here? I thought you—heh heh—weren't coming back…_ever_." Uncle Vernon started to growl, his face turning purple. "But look at the house," Harry continued. "It's better than it ever was!"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HOUSE?!?!?!?!?!?!"

"Well, I didn't really have anything to do, after beating Voldemort and whatnot, so I kind of turned it into a casino. Hope you don't mind."

"DON'T MIND?! DON'T MIND?! WHAT'RE THE NEIGHBORS GOING TO THINK?!?" Harry shrugged.

"Don't worry about it, Uncle Vernon. They all love it!" He looked over at a very enthusiastic Mrs. Figg.

"I just won a thousand dollars!!!" she exclaimed. She waltzed over to a very distressed Uncle Vernon. "Vernon, I love what you've done with the place. I'm thinking of doing the same with _my_ house!" She left, her pockets filled to the brim with cash.

"See, Uncle Vernon? Everyone loves it. They're happy, they're playing games…and Neville and Hannah just got married!!" He gestured to two drunken teenagers making out.

"Harry Potter, get them out of here now!!!!" screamed Uncle Vernon to the top of his lungs. Soon after, a tall, drunken man with shaggy black hair lumbered toward him.

"Hey, you mess with my godson's casino, you mess with me. And my little friend…" he added, pulling out a rather large knife. Harry pulled Sirius's arm down and held up his hands defensively.

"Whoa, Sirius. I've got it. It's cool," he said quickly.

Sirius nodded,"Ok, if you need me, I'll be over there," he jerked his thumb toward the bar and staggered over in that direction.

"Alright, I will," Harry called after him. "Oh, hey Dudley!" he yelled spotting his cousin, who upon entry, had hidden under couch. Now Fred and George were jumping up and down on it, causing Dudley to groan, and shouting:

"Come play with us Dudley!" over and over again. Uncle Vernon was outraged.

"Leave my son alone! Do you hear me?!" Harry waved his hand in a careless way.

"Ah, don't worry. They're trying to get him to be friendlier!" To Uncle Vernon's dismay, Dudley crawled out from under the couch and walked off with the twins. Ron walked out of the cupboard under the stairs.

"Hey, Harry, could you marry me and Hermione next?" he asked. Uncle Vernon stared at the cupboard in silent horror.

"Of course, Ron, but you might have to wait for a few minutes," Harry replied cheerfully.

"I don't know. Hermione getting pretty temperamental," Ron said.

"Okay then, hold on. Dumbledore," Harry shouted, "could you marry Ron and Hermione?"

The old man with the silver beard appeared out of nowhere to Vernon's terror. "Why certainly, Harry. After all, love is the most powerful thing in the world." Dumbledore and Ron walked off into the closet to meet Hermione. This had to be the worst day in the world. The only way it could be worse…

Slap! Vernon felt as if his cheek burned. "Vernon, we're getting a-hic-divorce," declared Aunt Petunia stumbling over. Vernon did a double take.

"What!" he bellowed.

"Yes-hic-I just got married-hic-to that nice man over-hic-there," she pointed to Severus Snape who was asleep with his head on the bar.

"This man can't even get drunk right," slurred Sirius pointing at Snape but instead he poked Mundungus Fletcher in the eye. The man screamed and fell off his stool onto the floor. Uncle Vernon's life was crumbling all around him.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"


	2. Chapter 2: Aunt Petunia

**Chapter Two:**

**Aunt Petunia's Worst Nightmare**

Aunt Petunia was sitting in her living room at Number 4, Privet Drive, appreciating her completely normal life. She had a wonderful, successful businessman for a husband who never raised his voice, a beautiful, healthy baby boy named Dudley nicknamed Duddykins, Popkin, Diddykins…

**(A/N: Meredith: Man, anymore of these nicknames and I'll gauge my eyes out. **

**Emily: I'll get the spork!!**

**Lacey: GAHHH MY EYES!!!)**

…and several others, which we will leave out for the sake of our sanity. She never had to lay her eyes on her freak sister ever again, but that didn't matter because she pretended she didn't have a sister in the first place. Unfortunately, she didn't know how wrong she was…

Suddenly she heard the door burst open with a bang.

"TUNEY!!" Aunt Petunia's eyes widened in horror. She heard two pairs of footsteps walking to where she was. They rounded the corner and it was…LILY AND JAMES POTTER!!! DUN DUN DUN!!! LIGHTNING STRUCK! THUNDER ROARED!!! THE EARTH CRUMBLED BEFORE HER!!! (Because that was _so_ unexpected.) Aunt Petunia leapt to her feet, hugging Dudley to her tightly.

"DON'T TOUCH DUDLEY!!" She shrieked. Lily, who had been smiling, seemed unfazed.

"Hello, Sister Tuney! How are you?" At the same time, James greeted her with a cheerful,

"Hello, Sister-In-Law Tuney!" She gaped at the pair.

"Wh-what are you doing here???" Aunt Petunia now stared at the skinny-messy-jet-black-haired-green-eyed infant that Lily was holding. "What is that?" she asked, disgusted at the fact of another Potter.

"Oh, this is Harry," James beamed proudly. "Doesn't he look just like me?" Aunt Petunia scowled and muttered, "Of course."

"Anyways," Lily continued. "We need to hide out from this…umm…well…"

"Crazy V guy," James finished for her. "And we were wondering that while we are on the run and ruining your reputation, you could watch after Harry." Aunt Petunia's scowl deepened. "And the others."

"OTHERS??" shrieked Aunt Petunia. James shrugged.

"Sure, there are. Moony, Pads!! Come on in!!" An even messier-black-haired man and a shaggy-more-aged-appearance man stepped into the living room, each carrying two baby carriers and two more infants in their arms. After they stepped through the door, a rather large amount of infants crawled through after them. The house began to shake. More lightning sounded as babies poured through the windows, the doors, the fireplace, and the toilets. The not-so-funny thing was, they all looked exactly like baby Harry. Uncle Vernon stormed down the stairs, his mustache bristling and his face purple.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?!" he thundered. More babies flew down the stairs, engulfing Uncle Vernon in a sea of infant Harrys. "Help! Help me!!" he cried.

"Husband Vernon!!" screamed Aunt Petunia. She turned towards Lily and James, furious, "How many are there?!" she wailed.

"Around twenty-five, last time I counted," declared James. "And Lily's expecting septuplets." Lily rubbed her enlarged stomach and grinned.

"Hope you don't mind, Sister Tuney!" Aunt Petunia's eyes widened with horror as the three wizards and one witch made their way out the front door, where more babies continued to flow in. This was way more than twenty-five, Aunt Petunia thought as the roof popped off and it began to rain baby Harrys.

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"


	3. Chapter 3: Dudley Dursley

Chapter Three:

**Chapter Three:**

**Dudley's Worst Nightmare**

Life could not get any better for Dudley Dursley then it was now. Not only was he feasting on candy his mother had bought him after his return home from the hospital, but his cousin Harry was gone for the rest of the year at some freak school. His life could now proceed perfectly normal: normal mother, normal father, normal friends, normal house, normal school, and normal nonexistent relatives.

He began to gorge himself on some colorful salt-water toffees when he began to feel dizzy. With a thump he fell to the floor, everything growing around him. "Diddy-kins, are you alright?" called his mother from the kitchen. She walked out wearing her favorite white floral apron. "How is my sweet… Vernon! Vernon, come quick! There is a pig in the sitting room!"

Dudley began to look nervously around him. "Pig? Pig?" he tried to whimper, but it only came out as a squeal. Panicking he bounded over to the window on all fours too weak to stand and nearly fainted at the sight of his reflection. He not only had a pigtail, but he was indeed a pig. His father burst into the room carrying Dudley's favorite flavor of ice cream.

"What? Ahh! Where did that-that thing come from?" roared his father. Thundering over to where Dudley stood, his father grabbed him by his snout and his tail. "I'm taking it to the zoo. If they don't want it, I'm taking it to the butcher's." Dudley squealed in terror as his father threw him into the back trunk. Next thing he knew, he was behind a large glass wall, children gawking at him. He backed away from them, terrified.

"Why's there a pig in the zoo, mommy," whined a pudgy little girl. "I want to see the tigers, not some stupid pig." She began knocking on the glass loudly trying to get Dudley to look up at her.

"Look, it's a pig in the zoo," said a strange voice. He looked up and saw a ginger-haired boy who Dudley could have sworn he had seen somewhere before. There was another boy who looked exactly like the first standing next to him.

"I don't know, Gred. Pigs are supposed to be on farms," replied the second.

'"Dudley Dursley, The-Boy-Who-Pigged,'" read the first off a plaque. "Resident of Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey."

"Could have sworn I've heard the name somewhere. Hey, Gred! Our house is like a farm."

"Yeah, Forge! Maybe the pig will want to play with us there!"

"Let's take it home, farm boy," said the second boy with an evil smirk on his face. The two boys backed up and then charged at the glass. It shattered showering Dudley in little pieces. Seeing the twins in his pen, he began to run wildly around.

"Catch him, Forge!"

"I've got his tail! Get the cart!" And to Dudley's horror the first boy pulled a cart into his pen piled with several other ginger-haired children.

"Mush, Dudley! Mush!" shouted one child hitting him with a whip.

"Ron, don't hurt him," said an older boy pulling the whip out of the child's hand and throwing it into a nearby trashcan. "I want to keep him as a pet!"

"But he's going to be dinner. Mom said she wanted fresh pork," stated the oldest boy climbing into the front.

"From the market," interrupted a boy with glasses. "Plus, a pig can't logically pull all of us home."

"I don't think logical exists with Fred and George," declared the only girl.

"Yeah, Percy. Fred and I just aren't applicable to your rules of logic."

"First off, Bill and Charlie shouldn't be kids."

"Fred and I can't smash through glass unharmed."

"And George and I don't meet Dudley Dursley until our sixth year. See, no logic."

Dudley was soon pulling all seven children home, much to his dismay. A rather short, severe looking woman was waiting at the door. "What took you so long?" she asked.

"Had a bit of a problem hitching the pig to the cart," explained the oldest child jumping down from the cart. The woman guided Dudley into a pen and he squealed just wanting to be let out. He didn't want to die so young; he wanted to be Dudley again and to go home. Dudley was also starving.

"Mum, I don't want the pig to die," cried the boy who had thrown away the whip. "Can't we keep him as a pet?"

"You already have enough pets," stated the woman pointing to a shed where a cow was eating leaves from a tree.

"We want to play with Dudley," demanded one of the red head twins.

"Dudley? Who is Dudley?" questioned the woman.

"The pig," replied the other twin. "Can we play with him mum?"

"Alright, but don't get attached to it. We don't want him getting away before your father gets home," consented the woman.

"Yay!" shouted both ginger head twins. They hopped over the fence. "Come play with us, Dudley! Come play with us, Dudley!" Dudley squealed and ran around the pen with both twins in hot pursuit.

"_Dudleyus Stopium_!" hollered one twin brandishing a stick that Dudley knew must be a wand. He was going to be wizards' dinner, he realized terrified at what their cooking methods could be. He stopped, rooted to the spot and both twins climbed on his back.

"Go, Dudley! Be a bucking bronco!" bellowed one twin and Dudley ran about trying to throw both twins off. But he didn't notice the pole in front of him.

"Dudley! Look-"

Bang.

**So that's Dudley. Maybe he'll finally learn to stop being a pig. Hope you all enjoyed the new chapter! Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4: Aunt Marge

**Ok, here we go again. It is now time to slip briefly into the odd and horrifying realm of what some could call Aunt Marge's dreams…**

**Chapter Four:**

**Aunt Marge's Worst Nightmare**

Uncle Vernon, Harry, and Aunt Marge all sat around the dinner table, in a very polite fashion. Quiet, calm, and with just a hint of conversation. Naturally, this conversation containing topics of which poked fun at and bad-talked Harry. What else could they do, have an actual intellectual conversation? Of course not. The topic of choice: Harry's parents. "And what of his father?" questioned Aunt Marge. Harry stiffened in his chair with anger. There was a short silence and Uncle Vernon took the opportunity to answer. "His father's unemployed." Marge nodded in complete understanding. "Of course," she replied. "I never expected any better of him. I don't think the man could ever accomplish anything." Harry quickly stood up, his chair toppling over from the force, his fists slamming against the table. "That's a lie!" he shouted. "My father's a great man…and he's not unemployed!!" Another silence caused by Harry's sudden furious reaction ensued before Aunt Marge returned the sickening peace. "If he's not unemployed, then what does he do?"

Just then, outside the house, there came the shouting of a man's voice. Utterly confused as to why someone would be shouting on the perfectly quiet street of Privet Dr. the Dursleys and Marge walked outside to inspect the commotion. There, on their front porch was a taller, older looking Harry with something that looked a lot like a child's homemade lemonade stand. "Hot air balloon rides! Hot air balloon rides! Come on a hot air balloon ride!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge gaped in horror as they saw a grinning James Potter, sitting on their porch, attempting to get them to go on a hot air balloon ride. "What are you doing in front of my house and causing all this commotion?!" fumed Uncle Vernon, his face turning red. James's grin grew wider. "I'm selling people hot air balloon rides. You wanna go on one?" Aunt Marge pursed her lips together. "Sir," she said, attempting to remain calm. "You are nothing but a scam. You're sitting in a child's wooden stand, saying that you're selling balloon rides, when you don't even have a hot air balloon."

"Ho ho, that's what you think!" James said brightly, his grin not fading. Almost out of nowhere, he brought out a large tank of helium. And after swiftly shoving the hose into Aunt Marge's mouth, he began to fill her up with helium. No. Not again. She had been a balloon one too many times in her lifetime already. Marge began to feel her feet lift off the ground as she inflated more and more, and her eyes widened with pure fear as she flew higher and higher. It wasn't long until James then tied ropes around her wrists and ankles, with the ropes attached to a large basket. James stepped back to look at his handiwork and brought his hand to his chin in a pondering position. "Well, it's not the best looking balloon, but it'll do," he decided. "Now, where's the couple that requested the hot air balloon for their honeymoon?"

Uncle Vernon crumpled his face in anger. "There's no one that wanted a bloody hot air balloon! Now let her down, or I swear I'll—"

"Now Vernon, don't jump to conclusions," said a female's voice from behind him. "We wanted the balloon ride." Marge watched as the red in his face faded as he turned around and saw that the voice came from her brother's wife, Petunia. She then noticed that the tall, bony woman was accompanied with another man. No, not him. Not the man that was drunk in Vernon's house in chapter one. Yes, it was Severus Snape. James cordially opened a door in the side of the basket, giving an elaborate bow. Snape assisted her sister-in-law in her entry, then stepped in himself, handing James Potter some golden coins, which the man pocketed gladly.

"Alright, now to get higher, pull on that lever, to come down, push that button," he instructed, pointing to a panel in the basket. Now have fun! I'll get you started." He began to untie the ropes that had apparently been keeping her tethered to the earth as she slowly began to rise.

'No! Oh no!' She thought desperately, finding she was so full of helium that her voice was too high to hear. Marge rose past the houses, above the street lamps, higher and higher as the two lovebirds stared, lost in each other's eyes. It was when her eyes slid up past the first cloud that Petunia spoke.

"Oh…Severus…"

"Tuney-love," Snape murmured in response, and Marge swiftly closed her eyes, but could unfortunately (for her and the authors) not cover her ears and so the kissing noises drifted up through the air as they sailed onward, uninterrupted by plane or storm. How had this happened? She had thought Petunia had more sense than that! All she wanted was for this to end.

Her salvation came in the form of Harry Potter suddenly appearing as if from thin air. He was riding on a broomstick and appeared to have something in his hand. What was that…?

Marge's eyes widened in horror as she realized he was holding a ruby-encrusted, dangerously sharp sword. And she was a hot air balloon. The two newlyweds didn't seem to have noticed and she tried vainly to shout a warning- she needed one of them to move the balloon! But the helium made this impossible.

Harry Potter had a manic grin on his face and she frantically took back everything bad she had ever said about him and his parents, and stretched out his sword-carrying arm. Frightened tears began to leak from her eyes as Marge had her last thought: 'My poor puppies!' Then P-

**The End. No more Aunt Marge.**


	5. Chapter 5: Mrs Figg

**Oh boy, there was some sudden inspiration for this one, but let's see how it turns out.**

**Chapter Five:**

**Mrs. Figg's Worst Nightmare**

She loved cats. There was just no other way to describe Mrs. Figg, an elderly squib woman who lived next door to Harry Potter by order of Professor Dumbledore. Of course now Dumbledore was dead (may he rest in peace, mind you!) and Harry Potter was practically a grown man having just defeated You-Know-Who about a month ago. So now she was living a quiet life for the first time in over a decade with little news at all coming from the Wizarding World.

It was on another blessedly silent day when her _favorite _neighbors, the Dursleys, arrived home from being in hiding for almost a year. After much surprise from the casino they had cleared out the excitement and the mess, and Privet Drive returned to normal. That was until the Dursleys found what was living in the cupboard under the stairs. With a loud scream Mrs. Dursley broadcasted to the entire neighborhood what the issue was. "VERNON! THERE IS A CAT LIVING IN _OUR_ HOUSE UNDER THE STAIRS! OH THE FILTH!"

Mrs. Figg was tending to her garden patch upon this discovery, and as Mr. Dursley was preparing a bucket of water to drown the creature she stopped him from his intended purpose. "Mr. Dursley! Please do not harm that poor creature!"

"Well, what should I do with that-that disgusting little doormat then, Mrs. Figg?! There is no way that _thing_ is living in my house!" sputtered Mr. Dursley.

"Let me take the poor dear! I have plenty of room!" she begged. Well, the last statement was not entirely true…

"Fine! Take it! You can have the decrepit thing!" stated Mr. Dursley seeming glad that he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty. He went into the house and about five minutes later emerged with a scrawny, furless ivory-colored sphinx cat between a set of kitchen tongs. He held the cat out at an arms length and soon she had scooped the cat out of his metal grip and rushed him back inside her house.

She stepped over Mr. Fluffypants lying on the doorstep, under Mr. Pussyboots hanging on a doorframe, around Mr. Bigglesworth sleeping on a knocked over chair, and between Patsy and her eighty-five kittens scattered across the floor. Upon reaching the kitchen she placed the newest addition to her family of felines on the table and preceded to fetch him, for she had discovered the cat was a he, a dish of milk. The cat looked at her in a condescending manner and refused to drink from the dish.

"You're a stubborn fellow, aren't you? Well perhaps that will change after awhile. Right now what you need is a name. How about… Elvendork?" The cat looked utterly horrified, but Mrs. Figg continued. "Yes, Elvendork would suit you just fine. Welcome to the family, Elvendork." Elvendork hissed and marched out of the room.

OoO

Mrs. Figg began to receive some very disturbing news within the next week from the Wizarding community. One day the headline for the Daily Prophet read: _Former Order member Mundungus Fletcher found dead; legs bit off_. It was a sad loss for the Order, for even though Fletcher could be a pain he had still helped them in many cases dealing with underground sources. Unfortunately, he was not the last.

Several Ministry officials began to suffer the same fate leaving a gory trail through the Wizarding World. The worst part was that no one seemed to know who was behind all of these exploits or even why. Some former Death Eaters were beginning to fall as well every single one of them having lost some sort of appendage to the fiendish murderer. The Ministry of Magic of course being flustered by the case was calling this a state of emergency. Mrs. Figg was reluctant to leave the house and her hands shook whenever her darling furry family drew close to the door.

Elvendork was having a bit of a problem adjusting to being part of the darling furry family, however. Whenever she placed Mr. Chuffy's Cat Food in his bowl, he'd turn his nose up and strut away to seethe on her favorite armchair. He'd hiss whenever the milkman came every morning and sleep through most of the day. Probably the oddest incident so far had been the day she came home from the market and found him lounging on the open phone directory.

The kittens seemed terrified of Elvendork and he wasn't particularly warm in response. Elvendork had command of the sitting room window ledge, so the kittens often hid in her bedroom or followed her around the house mournfully. She supposed that it was because Elvendork was, well to put it simply, hideous. He never cleaned his fur right, his little purple polka-dotted bow tie was torn and crooked, and his facial figures made him look like a wingless bat. She reminded herself that if she ever adopted another cat by choice, the chosen feline would not be another sphinx cat.

One day a family a few houses up the street named Peters put up a for sale sign due to the fact that they had received a vicious series of prank calls. Now, Mr. Peters was not the nicest man: he was known for yelling at children whenever they stepped on his freshly swept walkway. He made sure to clean every window on his house and scream at every 'hooligan' before departing from Privet Drive. He was not sorely missed.

So it came to one fateful night when the full moon was hidden behind the clouds that Arabella Figg awoke in the middle of the night. As she looked up at the opaque clouds in the sky she noticed the front door of the Dursley's hanging open on its hinges. The Dursleys had left earlier in the day to take Dudley off to his senior year at whatever the name of his horrid muggle school was, and they would not be returning until late tomorrow. She reached for her phone to call the police, but then she heard her babies meowing. Rushing down the stairs, she found her family huddled around the sitting room window that was now broken: a perfect circle was carved into the glass and punched out. She gasped and began counting heads; only one cat was missing and of course that cat was Elvendork. Mrs. Figg looked at the direction the window was facing and noticed it was perpendicular to that of the kitchen window on Number Four. Shoving her arms into the sleeves of her coat, she grabbed a shovel from outside and ventured into the unknown dungeon of the Dursley residence.

The house had an appearance of being normally clean, but now there were broken plates and picture frames littering the floor. She stepped on the well-gnawed door to what looked like a cabinet. Mrs. Figg felt chills run down her spine thinking about what the Dursley's would do to poor hideous Elvendork once they found their abode torn apart like this. It was instances like this that made her wish that she were not a squib. Peering in the hallway, she saw the door to a cupboard wide open and light poured out from this little hovel under the stairs. She was just about to charge upon the cabinet when she heard a voice.

"I just don't understand!" it hissed furiously. Terrified, Mrs. Figg pressed herself against the wall and began inching towards the front door. But wait! She had not found sweet, bad-tempered Elvendork, and he had been found in that cupboard. She imagined him concealing himself inside a box of old feather dusters too afraid to sneeze. Her heart went out to him, so pulling herself together Mrs. Figg inched back towards the cupboard, shovel poised for the assault.

"They said he lived here," grumbled the voice and the owner began pacing back and forth, his shoes clicking like tiny claws. Bracing herself, Mrs. Figg moved into sight. She couldn't believe her eyes. Pacing there and mumbling was Elvendork the cat. It took him a moment to notice her.

"What are you doing here, Muggle-Minion-of-the-Stinky-Food? I thought you were asleep!" he barked.

"You can talk!" she breathed out.

"Of course I can talk! Who do you think I am?" he raged.

"You're a cat!"

"I know I'm a cat. And it's terrible! When Dumbledore said there was something worse than death he was not mistaken," sneered Elvendork whilst in the process of coughing up a fur ball.

"B-but, who are you?" she questioned, tightening her hold on the shovel.

"You do not know who I am! But everyone fears me! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"

She couldn't believe it. She staggered back into the kitchen as her world spinned and finally began to turn black. Falling to the floor, Mrs. Figg heard Elvendork the cat who was really Lord Voldemort trapped in the body and paying for his crimes during his human life sneer, "Stupid Do-Gooder-Chicken-Minion."


	6. Chapter 6: Mark Evans

**Hey, we're doing this one again.**

**Chapter Six:**

**Mark Evan's Worst Nightmare**

"You're a wizard, Mark," stated the large burly man who called himself Rubeus Hagrid.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" screamed Mark.

**Huzzah, we updated! By the way, we know Mark is no longer in the dropdown list, but we had to do him anyway. Just to spite JKR.**


	7. Chapter 7: Piers Polkiss

**Here's yet another Worst Nightmare! It's short, because this character probably has like, 20 lines max in the books, but we said every character on the list, so….**

**Chapter Seven:**

**Pier's Polkiss' Worst Nightmare**

Piers liked to think he had a normal, even a good, life. He had two parents who cared about him, but more importantly were oblivious. He had money- lots of it –so he didn't need a job. He was even the second-in-command of Big D's gang. And the gang had a ready target to go after: Big D's freak cousin, Harry Potter, the kid who'd never committed a crime, didn't do drugs, and had no friend, but who still was the one out of all of them to be sent to St. Brutus'. Oh, how hilarious irony was. At least, he was pretty sure it was irony.

Bored with reflecting on that, Piers continued his stroll down Magnolia Crescent, making his way to the park where the gang was going to meet up, but was stopped by crashing into a rather large person.

"Sorry," he grunted, not really meaning it until he looked up to see who it was. "Potter?"

The scrawny kid had buffed up, incredibly so to the point that it was incredible.

"Out of my way, punk," Harry said, knocking Piers aside. He went tumbling into the neighbor's lawn, but that wasn't important.

"How- how did you—?"

Harry threw a smirk over his shoulder. "St. Brutus'. They load you up on steroids." And with that, the hugely muscular Harry Potter made his way down the street and out of sight.

It wasn't fair! He and the gang had to scrounge around in secret for anything- not even the good stuff –and _Potter_ was getting steroids for _free_! Cursed irony!

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

**So yeah, not the best, but we wanted to finish up this group before heading on to the next batch. Thanks for reading!**


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